


Homecoming

by Emily_F6



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 09:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: A lot has happened in the last three years since Ponyboy Curtis saved his best friend from a fire, not all of it good, but if he knows anything, it's that he can always rely on his brothers. (Sequel to The Inside of an Ember)





	1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy the story. For right now, I'm going to leave this 'in progress' as I think I want to add more chapters. I've been working on this one for a long time so I really hope you all like it!**

Homecoming

Sodapop grinned at me when I glanced over, and I gripped his shoulder, hardly able to stop smiling. It had been so long...he laughed and punched my arm. "Glory, Dar, your face is gonna get stuck like that if you keep it up." I laughed out loud, reaching out and putting an arm around his shoulders and keeping one of my hands on the wheel. He leaned into me, gripping my hand with his own.

The letter had come about six months after his eighteenth birthday in early May, a little over 2 years ago. Sodapop and I had both been at work, and Pony had grabbed the mail on his way in from school. Him and Johnny had been working on their final English papers. Johnny had been finishing up 11th grade, Pony 10th. Pony's grades had been mostly A's, and ever since that stuff with that soc the year before, he'd been working real hard, and I'd been trying my best to make sure to go easier on him.

I'd gotten home first since Sodapop and Steve had gone out after work to a drag race that, shockingly, they'd invited both Johnny and Pony too. They'd both begged off, telling him that they had papers to finish by the end of the week. I have to admit, I'd been impressed, both with Steve and with Pony. They were almost getting along. After the year before, when the two youngest in our group had been involved in the stabbing of that soc and had run off to Windrixville for a week, Steve had thawed toward my youngest brother, probably because he'd been hurt saving Johnny, but it had continued even after the cast had come off.

Ponyboy had changed too, growing up I guess. Him and Johnny had spent more time together, studying hard and it seemed like Pony was finally listening to me about that scholarship. After he'd healed up, he'd gone out for track again, and had pretty quickly made his way up to the A team, winning most of his races. Somehow, it all seemed easier. Maybe it was just because he'd been growing up and working real hard, but he listened better, and for the most part, we'd started to get along real well. There were times I'd just marveled at it, and I new Sodapop was glad. He hated it when we fought, so the two of us had been trying not to pick at each other anymore, and when we did fight, we made sure not to put him in the middle.

He'd stopped trying to tag along with Soda and Steve so much, not all at once, but he'd even made friends with some of the guys on the track team. I think it was hard for him...making friends outside the gang, especially after our parents had died. But him and Johnny, while not exactly popular in school, were fairly well liked by the time the letter came, and were known as being good guys to have on your side when it came to a fight. Socs had still bothered us, but after Bob had died, they hadn't been as bad. Things had shifted and we had Pony and Johnny to thank for that.

I'd come home first that day, stepping into a quiet house, which had been the first indication that something was wrong. Even when they worked on papers, Pony and Johnny usually had the TV or the radio on. The living room had been empty, and I'd hung up my tool belt and toed off my work boots. "Hello?" I'd called, heading to the kitchen and stopping cold in the doorway.

Ponyboy and Johnny had both been sitting at the kitchen table, and Pony was crying. Johnny looked pretty close. Both looked fine...no bruises or cuts or anything. Their backpacks were on the floor, a stack of books forgotten on the table. I'd stepped inside, grabbing Pony's shoulder and crouching down. "Hey? What's going on? Are you two okay?" I'd demanded, looking between the two of them. My little brother had nodded, jaw tight as he'd stared straight at the table. "You two finish your papers?" He'd shaken his head, and a tear had dripped down his face, and I'd felt my heart drop. "Pony, what's going on?" I'd asked again, softer this time, looking up at Johnny. "Johnny, you okay?" He'd glanced at Pony and nodded. "What happened." My little brother had taken a long, shuddering breath, and he grabbed an envelope off the table. It was on top of a pile of our mail, and he handed it to me without a word.

"You didn't call him, did you?" Sodapop asked. I'd picked him up at the airport that morning after getting his call a few days before. It was 1969...Sodapop had survived what would eventually be known as the deadliest year of the Vietnam war, and he was home. He'd asked that I not tell Ponyboy...he wanted to surprise him.

"No. You might give him a heart attack though." I teased, arm still around him. I'd held him for a solid five minutes at the airport, surrounded by other guys coming home, some of them still looking shell-shocked. Soda was okay though. I mean, I figured he'd probably have nightmares and he might need to talk to someone, but he was okay. He'd laughed out loud when he'd seen me, running across the airport lobby and practically tackling me. We would have looked like a couple of weirdos had tons of other guys not been doing the same thing with their parents and brothers and sisters, girlfriends and wives.

"How's he doing? Really?" He asked.

That day when I'd held the letter, Pony had broken down, dropping his head in his hands. He wouldn't be the first of our friends to go to the war. Dallas had been drafted four months ago and it turns out he cleaned up pretty well. Two-Bit had laughed out loud at his haircut and had nearly lost a tooth for his efforts. Surprisingly, he'd turned out to be a pretty good soldier...I'd been sure he'd end up punching an officer in the nose or something when they told him what to do, but from the occasional letter he bothered writing us, usually addressed to Johnny or Ponyboy, he was doing alright.

But we knew other guys, guys who'd never come back. A guy who'd graduated two years before Pony but who he'd known from track had died, as had a couple of guys Tim had palled around with. Just a week before that letter had come or Soda, we'd all been in the yard playing football when a black car had pulled up outside of the house a few doors down, and the woman who'd answered the door had fainted, her sobbing husband carrying her inside. They'd had two sons...now they had none. I'd put my arm around Pony, pulling him close, and Soda had done the same with Johnny, all of us thinking about Dallas on the other side of the world. When I'd held the letter, it had been the first thing I'd thought about.

It wasn't fair. We'd already lost our parents. This was too much to ask. Not Soda, who had just been promoted at the gas station and who kept trying to get me to take night classes and who was thinking about asking out the girl who kept coming into the DX. Who still sometimes slept in Ponyboy's room when our younger brother had those nightmares, which were becoming less and less frequent, but that still happened from time to time. "He's okay." I told our brother, only about half sure it was really true. Pony had taken it harder than anyone. When Soda had gotten home that day to find me and Pony in the living room, him crying and me pretty close, he'd been freaked out, but when he'd seen the letter, he'd just sat down on Ponyboy's other side on the sofa, putting his arms around our little brother.

"It's okay, honey. It's gonna be okay." He'd whispered, gripping the hand that I'd put on his arm.

"You can't go." Pony had sobbed into his shoulder, shaking his head. "You can't."

"Aw, Pone." He'd met my eyes then, his own eyes wet. "You know I gotta. Hell, maybe I'll run into Dally. You know he's having a good time. Remember that letter he sent last week."

"You can't go. Please...please don't go." Our brother had been practically hyperventilating, and he'd squeezed him harder. "Please, Soda...please."

"His letters don't say much." Soda shrugged beside me in the truck. "I mean, he wrote about every week, but just talked about school and stuff. Nothing personal." He sighed. "I tried to ask him questions but...hell you know I ain't no good at writing."

"You're fine." I shook him a little. "And he's alright, but now that you're back, he's gonna be a lot better."

Pony had gone with me to the airport to see him and Steve off. When Steve had found out that Soda got his letter, he'd enlisted the next day. The ride to the airport had been real quiet, and Pony hadn't said anything until they'd been about to go to their gate, the announcements over the intercom telling them that their plane was boarding. The airport had been full of guys wearing the same uniform, all saying goodbye to their families, and to all of our surprise before Steve had walked off, Pony had grabbed him. The rest of us had all said goodbye...Two-Bit and Johnny hanging back a little, me and Pony walking them to the gate. Steve had blinked in surprise, then had thrown his arms around Pony, the two of them almost the same height now that Pony had shot up.

"I think I might miss you, kid." Steve had laughed a little, patting him on the back, and Pony had pulled back a little.

"Be careful." Steve had nodded, going real serious, and had clapped Pony on the shoulder.

"Remember to write, kid. I might be running low on firewood and that paper will be valuable kindling." Pony had cracked a smile then, letting him go, and had turned to Sodapop who had been about to follow. He'd hugged him so tight I thought he wouldn't let go, but Soda had held him just as tight.

"It's gonna be okay." Sodapop had promised, rubbing his back. "I'll write every week. I swear. Heck, Darry's gonna have to send more money just so I can afford stamps."

"Please come back." Pony had sobbed into his shoulder, and Sodapop's jaw had gone real tight, his eyes closing for a second. "Please, Sodapop. Please. Please come back."

"I will." He'd promised after a second, pulling away just a little, and squeezing his shoulders. "Look at me, Pone." Ponyboy had, not bothering to wipe his eyes. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"No." Pony had shaken his head, blinking hard.

"I will come back. Two years from now, I'm gonna come home. Okay?" For a second, I'd wanted him to take it back. It wasn't fair to promise that, not when none of us knew. And if he didn't...Pony might break apart. But at the moment, he'd nodded. "I promise, Ponyboy. I promise. I'm gonna come home. Okay?"

Pony had wiped his eyes then, smiling a little. "Okay."

Then he'd been silent all the way home, shaking his head when Johnny had asked if he wanted to go out somewhere. Two-Bit had put his hand on his shoulder when we'd gotten home, pulling my little brother close. "You sure, kiddo. We could all go see a movie if you want." Pony had shaken his head again, going into his bedroom and closing the door.

The college was about an hour away from our house. Johnny had gotten a letter a few months before the end of his senior year, offering him a full ride. It had been the first time I'd seen Pony really excited since Sodapop had left, throwing his arms around his friend and grabbing the letter to read it out loud. We'd gone to a steakhouse, me, Pony, Johnny, and Two-Bit, the only ones left in our group, and I'd bought Johnny's dinner, all of us eating steak and drinking beer. In August, I'd driven him to the school, Pony in between us in the truck, and we'd helped him move into the dorm.

Almost a year later, I'd found a letter on top of the trash in our kitchen, pulling it out and all but storming into Pony's room. We hadn't had a real fight in a year or more, but I'd almost started one that night. "What the hell is this?" I'd demanded, holding up the letter to my seventeen-year-old brother. He looked more like Sodapop every day and it broke my heart.

"A letter?" He'd asked, the smirk letting me know he was practicing his sarcasm. Tamping down the urge to yell, I took a deep breath, telling myself that yelling wouldn't help anything.

Ponyboy had spent the last few months filling out every single college application I put in front of him, never complaining, just writing the essays and letting me look over them before mailing them out. He had been working real hard in school, bringing home straight A's his senior year, and I told him a week before how proud I was of him, making his ears get hot. "You got accepted to Stanford," I told him, smiling a little. My little brother was accepted to Stanford University. "Pony...that's one of the top colleges in the country. And they're offering you a half scholarship...do you understand what a great opportunity this is?"

Pony reached into his bedside table drawer while I was still talking, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to me. I took it, sitting on his bed and skimming it, glancing up at him. "Oklahoma State University." He nodded, smiling a little.

"They offered me a full scholarship."

"But...Stanford…" He grinned, putting the book he was reading down.

"I can't afford it, Dar. Even with them paying for half of my tuition. And I'll still have to pay room and board. Oklahoma State offered me full tuition, and Johnny's gonna get an apartment on campus...we can room together. I can get a job close to campus and help him pay rent, plus I've got some money saved up." He'd gotten a job after school working at a diner and had saved just about everything he'd been making.

"Pony, I can help out. I've been saving too, and…"

"I don't want to go to Stanford, Darry." He'd murmured, interrupting me, staring down at the book on his lap. "I just...Johnny's at Oklahoma State and it's close to home and...I don't want to go to Stanford."

I'd nodded, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. "Alright. Hey, Oklahoma State's a good school, and it'll be good to have you close to home. Heck, I can drop by any time. It's only an hour away."

The apartment was a few minutes drive from the main campus, not in a great part of town, but I'd helped him and Johnny move in and they could handle themselves. For the last few months, I'd talked to him on the phone every week or so, and he sounded like things were going okay. He'd gotten a job waiting tables just off campus, and had been doing pretty well in his second-semester classes. It was warm for March, and Sodapop was in jeans in a t-shirt. The campus was crawling with students, everyone rushing off to classes or eating lunches outside while reading textbooks. I felt a pang looking at them...I still wanted to go back to school. Now that Pony was grown up, maybe I could.

"It's nice." Soda said, looking around and looking impressed.

"Yeah...it's no Stanford, but I think he likes it."

"What?" Soda glanced over, wide-eyed, almost offended.

"He didn't tell you?" Sodapop shook his head. "Oh...uh...he got accepted to Stanford. They offered him a partial scholarship."

"Shit, are you serious!" Soda leaned in. "Why didn't he go?"

"I think...I think he wanted to be closer to home. Besides, he got a full scholarship here, and I think he wanted to room with Johnny." Soda nodded, still looking kind of upset. "I'm sure he meant to tell you."

I pulled into the parking lot of his apartment, still unable to believe that my baby brother was eighteen years old and had his own apartment. I'd only been able to visit once after moving him in, and he'd come home with Johnny for a few days around Christmas, but otherwise he'd been pretty busy with school and work.

Sodapop was practically bouncing as he jumped out of the truck, waiting for me to lead the way, laughing at his eagerness as I headed up the stairs. They lived on the second floor, and Soda just about ran me over climbing the stairs. I slugged him on the shoulder. "Take it easy. Don't knock me over." He laughed, unable to contain it as I led him to the door. "Here. Number 17. Go ahead."

I didn't have to tell him twice. He beat on the door, just about bouncing on his heels as he waited for our brother to answer the door. However, it was Johnny who opened it, his eyes going wide, a grin stretching his mouth. "Hey! Soda!" He called, throwing his arms around my brother, and Sodapop squeezed him, laughing a little.

"Hey, Johnnycakes! How's it going, man?"

"It's good...when did you get back? Does Pony know?"

"Naw. I just got back today. I want to surprise him."

"Yeah? Come on, come in!" He stepped back, grinning at me. "Hey Darry."

"Hey, Johnnycakes." I ruffled his hair as I walked by, stepping inside their apartment. It was surprisingly neat, with an old sofa they'd bought at a thrift store against one wall that faced the kitchen table, a recliner on the wall beside it, and a TV sitting on top of a rough looking coffee table on the other. Books were piled on their kitchen table next to a bowl of apples, and a soda bottle was sitting on a table next to the sofa that also held a lamp. It looked about the same as the last time I'd come, the only pictures on the wall one of the gang, one of me, Pony, and Soda, and a new one of Pony and Johnny somewhere on campus.

"You guys wanna sit? We got soda if you want any. I can make you guys some food or something?"

"Coke's fine. Thanks, Johnny." Sodapop grinned, dropping onto the sofa and looking around. I figured he was itching to snoop, probably in Pony's room, but I sat beside him on the sofa, grabbing a textbook from the floor beside me and flipping through it. Algebra. Pony had stuck a couple of pages of notes inside and Soda ran a finger over his handwriting, smiling a little.

Johnny came in with the cokes, handing each of us a bottle and taking the recliner. "We got a letter from Steve a few weeks ago...you heard from him?" He asked, tentative. Sodapop nodded, taking a drink.

"Yeah. He's coming home in a couple of days. They're just wrapping up a few things. How's Dally? You heard from him?"

"Last week. He wrote me and Pony a letter. Six more months and he said he's gonna come back. I think he likes it." Soda snorted.

"Yeah, I guess so, with getting promoted and all. I ran into him once, after I first got over there. Never thought Dal would be a good soldier." Johnny laughed a little.

"Us neither. Pony said it was a wonder he hasn't been court-martialed yet."

"How are you guys doing? Pony hasn't said much…." Sodapop trailed off, and I leaned in. He hadn't said much to me either, and not for the first time I worried that something was wrong.

"Things are fine. We've been working a lot to make rent."  
"You guys got enough?" I asked. "If you need help…"

"Nah. We're fine, Dar. Thanks, though. Things were tight for a little while, and I think Pony might have taken too many classes. He's taking 4 this semester and he's gotta keep his grades up to keep that scholarship. With work on top of it, he's been stressed out." Soda nodded slowly, and I made a mental note to write them a check and buy them some groceries. "What are you gonna do now that you're back, Soda?" Johnny asked, apparently anxious to get the focus off of their money problems.

"Work at the DX for a while, I guess. If Darry will have me, I planned on moving back home." I ruffled his hair.

"I guess I'll have you," I told him with a grin, and Johnny laughed, taking a drink.

"Sofa's always free here if you wanna visit. Plus Pony's bed is big enough for two."

"He been having nightmares?" Soda asked, and Johnny dropped his eyes.

"Johnny?" I asked, putting my soda down. Our friend sighed.

"He didn't want me saying nothing...didn't want to worry you."

"They bad?" Soda demanded.

"Not real...he only woke up screaming twice this year." It was only March, so that didn't comfort me much.

"What about?" I asked, wondering if he needed to go back to the doctor.

"That fire, usually, he said. It was on the news a few months ago...a house on the other side of campus burned down, and he had a nightmare about it the next night. The bad ones were about you though, Soda." My brother nodded, biting down on his lower lip. "Hey, now that you're back, I bet he won't have 'em anymore."

The week after Soda had left, Pony had woken up screaming every night. Seven days in a row, it would start around 2-3 in the morning. The first night I'd rushed to his room, sure that someone had broken in or something. The nightmares hadn't happened since a month after that fire...after we'd taken him home from the hospital. After that first night, I'd just sat with him, never offering to sleep in the same bed, but I'd lay down when he woke me, him always apologizing and me always brushing it off, assuring him that it was okay. "Glory, ain't I too old for this yet?" He'd asked one night, crying as he'd laid in my arms, and I'd rubbed his back, assuring him that it was gonna be okay.

After that week, it had tapered off. It had still happened sometimes, usually after we'd accidentally catch the news that told us how many people were dying over there. Another time Dal had sent us a pretty graphic letter and he'd had the nightmares three nights in a row. But mostly, he had just thrown himself into his studying, hanging out with Johnny up until Johnny went off to school, then sticking mostly to himself. Two-Bit had tried to pull him out of it a few times, but their friendship had almost ended when Two, after a few drinks, had invited him out to the movies and Pony had said no.

We'd all been in the living room, Two-Bit nursing his sixth or seventh beer, and me talking to a buddy on the phone. We were planning on meeting up at the gym the next day. Pony had come home from school, nodding to us and shifting his backpack. It had been a Friday afternoon, a rare one when I was off, and he hadn't had track practice or gone to the library to work on homework.

"I was gonna head to the movies later. You wanna come, Pony?" He'd asked my brother. At sixteen, Pony was almost as tall as me, wiry and thin but a good fighter. He'd been jumped once or twice since Soda had left, but had licked the other guys both times. It was getting to the point where I didn't have to worry about him so much.

"Nah. I got some homework."

"You got all weekend to do your homework, kid. Live a little!" Two had cried, downing the rest of his beer, and my buddy on the phone had asked what time I got off work. He and some of my other friends were planning a ski trip and I was kind of tempted. Pony would be alright for a day or two on his own, especially with Two-Bit around.

"Sorry, Two. Maybe some other time."

"Shit, kid, is this how you're gonna be until Sodapop gets back? You think not having any fun will make him come back faster?" You could have heard a pin drop, and then Pony had been on top of our buddy, his fist cracking against his nose before I could blink.

"I'll call you back!" I'd cried into the phone, hanging up just as Two-Bit managed to push my brother away, but Pony had been right back on him, the two of them on the ground as Two-Bit got a punch in. Pony had almost got a hold of him when I got him under his arms, pulling him away and pushing him against the wall.

Two-Bit had jumped to his feet, ready for more, but I'd held Pony against the wall with one hand on his chest, the other outstretched against Two-Bit. "Back off, Keith." I'd warned, pinning my brother to the wall. He was strong enough to break free, but he didn't.

"He hit me!" Two had cried drunkenly.

"Yeah, well you asked for it!" I'd snapped, pointing a finger. My brother had wriggled away then, and I'd been afraid he was gonna take off, but he just went into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Kid broke my nose." Our buddy had whined, and I'd dropped my hand, looking nervous after my little brother.

"You ever pull some kind of shit like that again, I swear I ain't gonna pull him off you. You hear me? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Kid never goes out anymore. Heck, Dar, he's always holed up in this house…"

"You think bringing up Soda's gonna change that?" Two-Bit had sulked for a while, then left, off to hunt down a blonde, I figured, and I'd gone into Pony's room, my heart breaking when I found him under the covers, holding Sodapop's pillow and doing his best not to cry. Sitting beside him, I'd rubbed circles on his back until he calmed down.

"He was drunk, Pone." I tried to comfort him.

"I know."

"He didn't mean nothing. He's worried about you...you don't really get out much these days, kiddo."

"I don't want to." I hadn't tried to push it, but he'd gone on. "I want Soda to come home."

"Me too, honey."

Two-Bit had apologized the next day when Pony hadn't spoken to him and I'd had to remind him why Pony was angry. Apparently, he hadn't remembered saying it and had been real sorry. Pony was always quick to forgive, especially when it came to Two-Bit, and Two-Bit had stayed with him when I'd gone on my ski trip the next week. When I'd come home a few days later, the two of them had been palling around more, going to the movies sometimes, but not as much as before. When Pony had gotten his job, Two-Bit would sometimes go and get lunch or dinner at the diner, insisting that Pony wait on him and leaving him either no tip or a ridiculous one...once he'd given Pony a five and my brother had just about refused to take it. Often, Pony would sneak him free food, even giving him some to take home to his sister.

The front door opened then, and there he was. Pony's arms were piled high with books, and he didn't even glance at us as he stumbled in the living room, kicking the door shut behind him. "I have five tests this week, you know that?" He called into the room, and Johnny grinned. Soda's mouth had dropped open, his eyes lighting up, and I knew Pony looked different to him...more like Soda than before. His hair was longer, and he was taller, face sharper, and he needed to shave. His jaw was stubbled...he hadn't started shaving until he'd turned sixteen after Soda had already gone. Apparently, he hadn't had time that morning. "I'm only taking four classes! How the heck do I have five tests! And midterms are just a few weeks away! Are they trying to kill me?"

Johnny snorted when Pony kicked his shoes off, still not even glancing our way. "And I gotta work tonight! Jacobson quit, so Rich needs someone to cover his shifts. Don't know why I gotta do it. We gonna be able to make rent if I only work weekends until midterms are over?"

"I don't know, Pone. I was kind of hoping you'd come out to dinner with us tonight, but if you gotta work…" As soon as Soda opened his mouth, Pony froze beside the kitchen table, the books dropping onto the table, his whole body going stiff. He closed his eyes, jaw tight, like he was scared...like he thought maybe he was hearing things.

He turned slowly as Soda stood, both of them facing each other, Soda grinning and Pony just staring. Then he was a blur, and Soda met him in the middle, neither of them speaking as they held each other in Pony's living room. They were both crying, Soda rocking them back and forth, and I wondered if they'd ever let go. Pony was sobbing so hard he was gasping for breath, holding Soda tight like he thought he might disappear. "I promised." Soda told him suddenly. "I promised I'd come home, Pony." He pulled away for a second, his hand on our little brother's face. "Every night, every time we had to fight, I told myself I promised. And I'd never lie to you."

Pony grabbed him again, asking something I couldn't hear, but Soda nodded. "Yeah, honey. I'm home for good. Hell, if I never leave Oklahoma again, it'll be too soon." He rubbed our brother's back. "What time you gotta go to work?" He finally asked, and Pony sobbed a laugh.

"I ain't going to work, Soda."

"What about Rich?"

"Screw Rich." Soda chuckled, wiping his eyes and resting his head against Pony's head. "I was scared you'd never come back. I dreamed you died, Soda...I dreamed…"

"None of that matters, honey. I'm back. And I'm not leaving again. I promise. Heck, I'll stay here for a while if that's okay." He glanced at me and I nodded. I had taken off work for the next couple of days, so I was fine sleeping on a sofa here.

"You know it's fine, Soda." Johnny grinned. "Stay as long as you like, man. You too, Dar." Pony seemed to notice me for the first time, then, eyes widening, and I laughed. Standing, I joined them in the middle of the room, throwing my arms around both of them.

"Finally noticed me, huh?" Pony laughed, and for the first time in two years, his eyes lit up, all that fear and worry he'd been carrying for so long dropping off his shoulders. "We were gonna find the closest steakhouse and celebrate. What do you say, Pone?" I asked, gripping his shoulder, and he nodded.

"Yeah...just...let me call my boss." I nodded, and Soda let him go but stuck close while Pony picked up the phone, telling his boss that he was sick and probably wouldn't be in for the next three days, completing the terrible lie with the worst fake cough I'd ever heard, but I don't think he'd have cared if they fired him. I made a note to stop at the grocery store on our way back from the steakhouses as Pony hung up the phone.

Before we could go, Soda grabbed him again, and I reminded myself that my little brother had just gotten home from a war. Sure, he seemed okay, but it might be a while before things went back to normal. For the moment, though, he held his little brother, the best friend he had in the world, as tight as he could, and kissed the top of his head. Throwing an arm around Johnny who grinned up at me, we waited for the two of them to realize that they were both finally home.


	2. Nightmare

**Nightmare**

The whimpering beside me woke me up, and I stared at the wall in front of my bed for a second before rolling over, my brain struggling to catch up. My brother...my heart flipped over as relief hit me like a drug, shooting from my heart and to the tips of my fingers, making me feel light, the smile stretching from ear to ear. Sodapop was home. He was home. My brother was alive and home and he wasn't leaving ever again. I shifted a little, watching him. His jaw was tight, lips pursed, brow drawn. Nightmare. It made sense. He'd probably seen some awful stuff. My chest went tight at that….he'd seen awful things...probably things he'd never want to tell me about. I'd never have anything to do with that part of his life. Two whole years, gone.

For two years, part of me had been dead. I'd tried...especially when I'd seen what a toll it was taking on Darry to have me acting the way I was. After he'd gone, I'd had nightmares every night for a week, and every night Darry had sat on the bed beside me, stroking my hair, not like Soda...but like Darry. He'd never complained, but I'd seen how tired he was. I'd seen the way he'd eye my still-full plates and look over my half-done homework, and I'd tried so hard to snap out of it. I'd thrown myself into school and track and brought my grades up. But no matter how hard I'd tried, I'd been unable to shake it completely. Our gang had been ripped apart, just me, Two-Bit, Dally, and Johnny left. And then Johnny had gone to school and some nights I'd lain awake for hours, trying so hard to keep breathing steady and not cry.

Once, Two-Bit had come over to crash in the middle of the night, after our big fight where I'd just about broken his nose. We'd been doing better, but I couldn't bring myself to care too much about him being upset with me or worried. Between school, track, Darry, writing letters, and missing my brother so bad my heart hurt, I couldn't put too much effort in my friendship with Two-Bit. He'd found me on the couch at three in the morning on a school night, staring at the blank wall above the TV. I'd been trying to write a letter to Sodapop earlier...I'd sat down, pen in hand, blank paper in front of me, and I'd been about to tell him all of it...about the dreams of him coming home in a box, or how I felt so empty and exhausted all the time...about how I threw myself into school work so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

In the end, I'd written a letter so stilted and boring I'd been sick reading it back.

_"Soda,_

_Thanks for your letter. Things are fine here. Johnny left for school about a month ago. Darry and I helped him move in. He's real excited. Two-Bit and his family are doing good. I got a letter from Dallas. He's okay. Darry got a promotion at work and is working more, but he's making more money._

_I got a job at a diner, waiting tables. I've got to wear an apron and everything. Bet Steve would get a kick out of that. It ain't too bad. I tried to give some of my paycheck to Darry but he wouldn't hear of it. So I'm saving most of it. I did slip a couple of dollars into his wallet, though. I hope it helps._

_I won my track meet last week. Darry still hopes I'll get a scholarship. I've got another year of high school, and hopefully I can keep my grades up enough to get into college._

_Hope everything is going well with you._

_Ponyboy"_

It was the kind of letter you'd write a penpal, not your big brother...not your favorite person in the world, the one you loved more than anyone. It had ended up barely filling a full page. But when I'd thought about telling him the truth...about sitting down and writing an honest letter about how food didn't taste like anything anymore, or how I'd woken up the night before and thrown up after a nightmare about him getting shot, my eyes would heat up, a lump sitting in my chest. I couldn't write it. I couldn't talk about it.

Two-Bit had paused in the living room doorway and I'd felt him staring, but I hadn't been able to even turn my head to look at him. I'd felt heavy...like I couldn't move. "Hey there, kiddo." He'd murmured after a long pause, sitting on the sofa beside me. He'd turned 21 over the summer, but he looked exactly the same sitting beside me, an arm going around my shoulders. I'd wanted to talk to him. I'd opened my mouth. But I'd been too afraid to say it...too afraid to give a voice to the terror just in case that made it come true. "You got school in the morning, Pone. You ought to be in bed." I'd just stared at the wall, and his hand had rubbed my back. "You feeling sick?"

I'd nodded then. It wasn't exactly true, but in some ways, it was the best way to answer. I was feeling sick. My chest was so tight it was hard to breathe, my eyes hot, my brain so wired and terrified that I didn't know if I'd ever sleep again. "I'm sorry I hit you." I'd told him then, my voice weak. It had been over a week earlier...Darry had gone on his ski trip and Two-Bit had spent most of the weekend at our place. We were pretty much fine. But I hadn't apologized yet, and I owed him that after everything.

"Aww kid, don't worry about it." He'd been uncomfortable, running a hand through his hair. He'd smelled like beer but he hadn't been drunk. Not too drunk, anyway. I'd wondered why he hadn't gone home, but I hadn't wanted to ask. I was too grateful to have someone in that quiet house with me. I hadn't wanted to be alone, and I hadn't wanted to wake Darry. "You want some aspirin?" I'd shaken my head. "Want me to wake Darry? He won't mind. Heck, if you're sick, he'll want to be up."

"Nah...leave him alone. He's got work in the morning." I'd told him. Two-Bit had nodded, rubbing my back and waiting. "I tried to write So...I tried to write a letter." Saying my big brother's name was just about impossible, so I avoided it whenever I could. Two-Bit had looked down at me, not talking...just waiting. "I couldn't." My voice had broken and he'd pulled me closer. "I didn't know...I can't write...I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do." He'd held my head against his shoulder, probably comforting me. I can't remember. I'd been so tired...the rest of that night is a big, hazy, exhausted blur.

The next thing I remember, someone had brushed hair out of my eyes, a soft light filtering in through the curtains. "Ponyboy? You okay?" Darry had asked, and I'd opened my eyes to find Two-Bit in the recliner, sound asleep. Darry had looked real worried, but I'd been so tired...too tired to tell him what he wanted to hear.

"I don't feel good." I'd told him instead, letting my eyes close again, and he'd ran his fingers through his hair, making me miss Sodapop even more. It wasn't that I didn't want Darry...I wanted them both.

"You need a doctor?" I'd shaken my head.

"Can I just sleep?"

"Sure, honey." He'd pulled the covers back up around me, and I'd fallen asleep, not waking again until Two-Bit had shaken me around noon, handing me a sandwich and sitting me up. We'd spent the day together, and the next day I'd felt a little better. Still partially dead inside...still grieving so deep I didn't know how to breathe around it sometimes, but at least I had Two-Bit and Darry to grieve with.

When I'd walked into the apartment the night before, I hadn't even seen Soda and Darry in the living room. I'd been too focused on schoolwork and tests and work at the diner. I felt like I was sinking some days. We didn't hardly have enough food in the apartment and keeping up with work and four classes, including Algebra which I'd never been much good at, was drowning me. I still wrote to Soda every month, stilted, formal letters that made my chest hurt. Even writing to Dally was easier. Steve too. I just hoped Sodapop wasn't hurt by them. He didn't seem hurt in his letters back. They were all about the country, things he knew I'd like, and stories about the other guys he was working with. He told me about the handful of South Vietnamese people he'd met, mostly nice guys, and the kids who'd chase them down the streets of the village. He told me about passing out bubble gum and candy to the little kids, how it was one of his favorite parts of being there. His letters were great...it was me, the one planning on majoring in English, that couldn't write to save my life.

Then Sodapop had been there, and I'd been able to breathe. For two years, it had been like only one of my lungs was working, and then he was there and the other one had woken up. After calling my boss to tell him I wouldn't be in that night, or the next few, I'd grabbed him again, holding on so long that I think Darry and Johnny had sat back down. "I'm here. I'm right here, honey. I ain't gonna go nowhere." Soda had assured me, rubbing my back, and it had taken a long time to let him go. When I finally had, he'd touched my cheek, chuckling a little. "Glory, Pone...you grew up. You shave now?" I'd laughed at that, nodding.

"Yeah...it's not as much fun as I thought it would be." I'd told him, making him chuckle. "I missed you so much." I'd said then, unable to go a few seconds without reminding him, apparently.

"Honey, you've got no idea." He'd told me quietly, squeezing my shoulder. He looked almost the same too. Laughing eyes, tired but still happy. He needed to shave but not bad. Shorter hair, but not as short as when he'd first gotten it cut. He'd let it grow out a little when he was over there. We were almost eye to eye...neither of us as tall as Darry, but I'd grown some when he'd been away.

At the steakhouse, Darry had bought all of us dinner, even though Johnny and I tried to tell him we could pay for ourselves. He'd ignored us, which was good, because we really couldn't afford it. Soda had told us a few stories, mostly light stuff, telling us about boot camp and funny stories about Steve. He told us about meeting Dal over there, too, and Darry told him about work. When the conversation turned to me, I told them a little about my classes, but nothing about the bad stuff...nothing about struggling to keep my grades up or missing home and the guys...just stuck with class and the diner.

Soda muttered something else in his sleep and I reached out, my hand on his shoulder. Not wanting him to have a nightmare, I called out to him. "Sodapop? You…" I didn't even see the fist that slammed into my nose, knocking me back, and I gave a muffled cry, feeling blood immediately drench my hands and the front of my shirt. I closed my eyes, breathing sharply through the pain, and immediately there was a hand on my arm.

"Pony? Shit...glory Pony...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...honey are you okay?" Soda was holding my shoulders, one hand behind my head. "Pony...I'm so sorry. Shit, I'm sorry." I just stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. His words ran together, his voice desperate and horrified. "I didn't mean to, honey. I'm so sorry." I blinked, my eyes wet as I tried to catch the blood with my hands and not let it get on the blankets. "Are you okay? Shit...honey, are you okay?" He sounded like he was gonna start crying and I nodded, blinking back the tears that came unbidden to my eyes.

"Yeah...glory, Sodapop, you been lifting weights or what? Was it something I said?" I tried to joke, but his face was apparently stuck, horror in his eyes that looked to be filling up with tears. I didn't want him to be upset...he'd probably been having a nightmare about something awful. Sometimes I thrashed in my sleep too...I mean, he'd possibly broken my nose, but still.

"I'm so sorry. Pony…"

"Grab me a towel, would ya?" I asked, swinging my legs over, and he raced to do as I'd asked, bringing back a white towel that turned red real quick. I pinched my nose, flinching and tilting my head back, coughing when blood ran down my throat.

"Come on, Pone." Soda murmured, pulling me to my feet and leading me to the bathroom where I leaned over the sink, the front of my shirt saturated with blood. Slowly, it started to ease up. Soda hovered, a hand on my back, his voice choked. "I'm so sorry, Pony."

"Ponyboy?" Darry's tired, confused voice came from the hallway, and I turned to look at him, realizing too late that I should have shut the door...his eyes widened, jaw dropping as he hurried to my side, taking in my now red t-shirt and the bruise around my broken nose. "Holy...what the hell happened?" He asked, looking between the two of us, then to the blood soaked rag in my sink. His hand went to the back of my neck as he tried to get a closer look.

"It was just an accident." I assured him, but Soda was backing away, his face ashen.

"I didn't mean to...I was having a nightmare and then I opened my eyes...he was trying to wake me up...I don't know...I…" He shook his head. "Oh god...Pony, I didn't mean to."

"Glory, Sodapop, I know that." I laughed, even though it hurt. Darry squeezed the back of my neck, then reached out for Soda, putting an arm around his shoulders. Grabbing a washcloth and wetting it, I wiped my face off, being careful. "I know you wouldn't never hit me on purpose." I brought a gentle hand up to my nose, flinching when it shifted under my fingers. "You okay?"

He shook his head. "I broke your nose." He whispered.

"Yeah, well. It happens" I shrugged, grinning, and he gave an incredulous, horrified laugh. Darry squeezed him, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle.

"It was an accident, little buddy. We know that."

"I'll sleep on the couch...or the recliner..." Soda told me, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head, then swearing under his breath.

"Soda!" I called before he could turn away, grabbing his sleeve. He struggled to meet my eyes, and I grinned. "I know you didn't mean to. It's fine. I swear. Barely even hurts."

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "Ponyboy…"  
"It was an accident. It happens. I swear, I'm fine. Come on...let's get back to bed before we wake up Johnny." After a long, hesitant look, he nodded, following me back to bed. I changed into a clean shirt, then crawled into bed as Darry headed back to the couch. As soon as he laid down, he threw an arm around me and I scooted closer, my head against his chest just like when we were kids.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered again after a minute.

"It's okay. I forgive you." I assured him, grinning. I didn't know how to tell him that I'd missed him so bad, he could hit me all he wanted and I'd still be glad to have him home. Then remembering the letters, I spoke again. "I'm sorry my letters were so bad." I whispered. I could always talk to Sodapop, but it was the easiest at night when we were falling asleep, like I could say anything I needed to and he would just get it. Besides, I wanted him to stop feeling guilty.

He paused, obviously taken aback. "What?"

"The letters I wrote you."

"They weren't bad." He assured, me, but he was obviously lying.

"Yeah they were." He sighed, rubbing my back. "I…" I went quiet, afraid that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. "Soda...I…"

"Go ahead, kiddo." He murmured. Closing my eyes, I let myself say it.

"I felt dead...with you gone. Like I couldn't hardly breathe. You know? And I couldn't write to you…I couldn't tell you that or you'd worry and…"

"You can tell me now, honey. I'm back now." He kept rubbing slow circles on my back and I tried to tell myself that he was telling the truth. He was home, with me again. And he wasn't thinking about my nose anymore, which was a relief. "How about you tell me now? Hm? How are things with you? Really?"

When we'd gotten back from the steakhouse, Sodapop had been pretty exhausted, probably jetlagged, and had dropped in bed around ten after we'd all sat in our living room for a bit, playing cards like old times. I'd followed after doing some homework at our kitchen table, leaving Johnny and Darry to talk. Darry had joined me after a minute, asking how I was doing, and I'd assured him I was okay. I wonder if he'd known I was lying. I always told Darry things were fine, when we talked on the phone or when, occasionally, we'd get to see each other. He never really pushed...I think he wanted to believe me.

"Okay…" I told Soda slowly. He just waited, disbelief thick in his silence. "I...I'm afraid I'm gonna lose my scholarship." I finally muttered, speaking to his chest.

"How come?"

"I'm working a lot to help Johnny pay for the apartment and the scholarship covered tuition but not books and…" I didn't want to tell him that all Johnny and I had had for dinner the night before was toast, or that I skipped lunch most days to save money. I didn't know how...I'd told Darry we were fine, that we didn't need money or nothing. I knew it was stupid, but I didn't want him to know we were having trouble.

"What else, Pony?"

"That's it." I told him, my voice soft.

"You guys got enough for food?" He asked then, always knowing when I was lying. I kept quiet, and when he spoke again, he was scolding. "Pony! You know Darry would help you out."

"I know...but I didn't want him to have to keep paying for me."

"You think Darry would rather you go hungry?"

"It's fine. We're fine. I just...I got work and track practice and the classes…"

"You're gonna run yourself into the ground, Pony." He murmured, rubbing my back.

"It was all I could do when you were gone...run myself into the ground." I admitted. "I couldn't think about you or focus on writing you letters or…" My voice caught and I took a deep breath. He spoke before I could.

"Oh, kiddo…" He murmured, rubbing my back. "I missed you too, you know. Never wanted to think about home...it didn't work though." He laughed, sounding sad. "I told just about everyone about you, you know? Couldn't go ten minutes without saying 'my little brother.' The other guys told me to shut up about you." I laughed a little and he ruffled my hair. "You got class in the morning?" He wondered.

"Nope. No class on Fridays." I told him. "I got a test on Monday, so I should probably study for that."

"What kind of test?" He asked, his voice light. I knew he was still worried about me, but he was trying to calm us both down enough so we could get back to sleep.

"Algebra. I suck at math."

"No you don't. Remember how you taught me the math with the letters?" I grinned, closing my eyes.

"That's algebra, Soda." I heard him grin when he answered.

"Exactly. You got this, kiddo." He pulled the blankets up and rubbed my back until my eyes wouldn't stay open. "Glory, I'm so glad to be home." He murmured.

"Me too…" Was the last thing I managed to say before drifting off, the throbbing pain in my nose forgotten.

**Thanks for reading :)**


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